


take your hand

by finkpishnets



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Post-Season/Series 01, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:29:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29905290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: Julie doesn’t touch Luke much at first.
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Julie Molina, Julie Molina & Reggie Peters, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 13
Kudos: 118





	take your hand

**Author's Note:**

> just a small, fluffy piece i got stuck in my head. post s1.

**.alex**

Touch with Alex feels intentional, like he saves it for the most important moments. His hugs are a clear ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I’m here’ or ‘congratulations!’ Even a hand on the shoulder is a declaration, and Julie learns to translate all of them, adding the silent phrasing to certain smiles and soft glances, and understanding Alex in a whole new way.

It’s easier to talk, too. Sat on the floor at the end of her bed, her head on his shoulder, he tells her stories about the band, how they met and how they died, and everything in between. When he tells her about his family, she squeezes his arm and hopes he understands her touch the same way she’s learnt his. He smiles a little sadly, and Julie files is away and keeps listening.

She meets Willie eventually, and watches Alex’s touches become freer and more hesitant all at once, an easy sign of a crush. Willie seems to get it, too, and touches back carefully, testing Alex’s limits with warm smiles and easy laughs.

“It’s adorable,” she tells Flynn later, painting her nails a bold teal Reggie had convinced her to buy, “if not a little painful.”

“Aww,” Flynn says, and Julie can hear the rustle of popcorn down the line. “It’s like a Disney Channel movie.”

It’s not, of course, but Julie agrees and lets Flynn change the subject to their latest music class project, doesn’t say ‘they’re dead’ and have it mean that they’ll never age. Never get to go to college or backpack around the world. Never get married or have kids or do a million other things that you take for granted when you’re a teenager and think having a crush is the biggest deal in the world.

If she thinks about it too much she can feel it breaking her heart.

“I’m sorry,” she tells him, halfway through a story about Willie trying to teach him to skate. It’s a stupid thing to say, and he stares at her in confusion for a moment before his expression clears.

“Hey,” he says, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “It’s okay. _We’re_ okay. I’ve got everything I need.”

“Yeah?” she says, and knows ‘need’ isn’t ‘want’ but maybe it’s enough anyway.

Maybe it just has to be.

“Yeah,” Alex says, and when he hugs her tight she hears everything he’s not saying.

**.reggie**

Reggie speaks whole languages in touch.

Julie hadn’t realized how much of him she was missing out on before, how many limits death had put on him, but now it’s almost deafening.

Touch with Reggie is constant: arms pressed together when they’re stood at the kitchen counter watching Ray cook; Reggie throwing himself down on the couch next to her, their legs instinctively tangling together as he talks her into painting his nails or watching Beverly Hills 90210 because ‘I never got to see how it finished, Julie!’

It’s almost overwhelming, a connection Julie hadn’t realized she was missing out on until it becomes such a natural part of her day that she misses it when they’re apart for too long.

It’s the same way she is with Flynn, and when she mentions it Reggie’s smile is so huge she knows it was the right thing to say.

It’s not careful but it is respectful.

There are nights when she’s frustrated — a bad day at school, an stupid argument with her dad or aunt — or worse, sad, her mom’s memory sat too close to the edge of her thoughts and overshadowing everything else. On those nights she just wants to curl up in her bed, blast loud music through her headphones and fill her sketchbook with words and drawings until she can unravel everything she’s feeling and iron it out into something okay.

Reggie never tries to touch her then.

Sometimes he’ll come sit by the window if he thinks she’ll be okay with it, flicking through old magazines or her iPad until Julie’s calm enough to go downstairs for a snack. Sometimes he’ll leave her be entirely, and then drape himself over her shoulders the next day like a coat.

Somedays she comes home from school and faceplants into his chest as he laughs happily, wrapping his arms around her, just because she really needs a hug and Reggie’s _made_ for them.

“Thanks,” she says afterwards, and he always looks at her like she’s mad.

“You’re welcome,” he says, like it’s a joke between them.

Like she’s the one doing _him_ a favor.

It only makes her hug him harder next time.

**.luke**

Julie doesn’t touch Luke much at first.

Not because she doesn’t _want_ to, but because it feels like _too much_. Something she’s wanted every time her fingers have brushed thin air where his hand should be, and she’s wondered what it would be like to be able to feel the warm press of his palm against hers.

It means that every time they _do_ touch it feels burned into Julie’s brain, a memory she can store and come back to over and over again.

The slide of his hand against her arm as he reaches across her for his notebook; the joking way he jumps lightly on her back when they’re hanging out at the beach, Flynn taking pictures that come out hilariously empty except for Julie bent over and laughing; the feel of his breath against her cheek when they’re sharing a microphone, following each other across the stage like moths to the flame.

The _what ifs?_ have become less of a dream and more of an inevitability, and Julie lets them add up and add up and add up until it feels like she’s going to scream.

He says her name the way he always has, the lopsided curve of his mouth making her weak at the knees, and it’s so _stupid_. She’s had crushes before but none of them have ever made her feel like she’s going to burn up just from the brush of a hand or knees pressed together on a crowded couch. 

“Okay,” Flynn says when Julie spills her soul into her pillow, hoping she won’t sound as pathetic with the words muffled, “you need to chill.”

“I _know_ ,” Julie says. “I’m trying!”

Flynn pats her on the arm sweetly, and Julie feels suitably patronized. “Look, you like him, he likes you. He’s no longer totally inaccessible. You’re just overthinking it.”

She _is_ overthinking it, obviously, but—

Maybe it _needs_ overthinking.

Luke’s an adrenaline rush, bright and powerful and all-consuming.

He’s also a ghost.

There’s no happily-ever-after here, not the sort she’s used to anyway. She’ll age and he won’t, and someday they _will_ move on to whatever comes next and she’ll be left living out her life and fighting not to forget the magic of it all.

When Luke winks at her across the piano, music pouring between them, she can’t bring herself to care.

Or, no—

She _cares_.

Maybe it’s just worth it anyway.

“Hey,” he says, sliding onto the stool next to her.

“Hey,” she says, and tries not to focus on the way her skin buzzes where his stupid arm in his stupid sleeveless vest barely rests against her shoulder.

She takes a deep breath and hopes he doesn’t notice.

His fingers dance over the piano keys, not really playing, and Julie watches them and thinks _Okay. Okay._

Luke pauses when she presses her pinky finger against hers, something small and silly and thoroughly intentional, and Julie waits and waits and remembers to be brave, turning her hand until she can press her palm against his and tangle their fingers together.

She can feel Luke’s eyes on her but she keeps her gaze fixed on the piano, on the shape of their hands.

(In her mind she can hear music, something new and light and loud.)

Luke squeezes her fingers and doesn’t move away.

“Hey,” he says again, and when she finally turns to look at him he’s smiling that gentle, soft smile she loves so much.

“Shut up,” she says, laughing in relief, leaning into him when he laughs too.

He lifts their hands and presses a kiss to their joined fingers.

_Okay_ , she thinks and leaves the future until it matters.

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on [tumblr](https://madroxed.tumblr.com/).


End file.
